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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27139412">Queen of Monsters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganPowers/pseuds/MorganPowers'>MorganPowers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, F/M, Gamelit, High Fantasy, Isekai, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, Magic, Multi, Other, Reincarnation, Strong Female Characters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:47:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,013</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27139412</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganPowers/pseuds/MorganPowers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia Johnson hasn't done much with her life - working at a video game company isn't exactly the most prestigious job. After an exasperating day at work, Lydia gets into an accident, and she finds herself at the feet of a mysterious being claiming to be from the world of Sorceress: Love Springs Eternal, a game that had been proposed to her company. Of all the people in the world Aen, Mother of All Monsters, Conqueror of the Abyssal Planes, came to her with a tall order; return the world of Vostea to the way it once was, with humans and monsters coexisting again.</p><p>Unfortunately, that's easier said than done. To start with she's not Lydia anymore, now she's the disgraced Lady Protea of Frostenden, the villainess of Sorceress. Now she has to contend with the Maiden of Light, a cadre of society's best warriors that want her head on a plate, and Protea's own dark past in the house of Frostenden.</p><p>But one thing's for sure; Protea's willing to do whatever it takes to make things right because her life and millions of others are on the line.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character(s)/Original Non-Binary Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If you had told Lydia Johnson that she would spend her days vetoing the inane decisions game developers kept pressing, she would have scoffed. It was a far cry from the degree she had worked for four years to get and there was no way she was going to waste it on something so ridiculous. And yet, here she was, listening to a young woman babble on about how her game was going to revolutionize visual romance novels.</p><p>Lydia sighed and set her tablet down on her desk, staring over the rim of her cat-eye reading glasses at the woman across. Across from her sat Melissa Daniels, a young brunette woman with blue eyes and a charmingly crooked grin. According to her portfolio, Daniels was an up-and-coming developer with only one game under her belt that technically hadn’t been released yet, called <em>Sorceress: Love Springs Eternal</em>. It was still in the beta stages, granted, but it had promised so much; an open-world concept, a non-linear storyline, engaging RPG mechanics, all topped off with a whopping total of twenty possible endings, four for every potential love interest in the game.</p><p>Like every novice game developer, she’d bitten off more than she could chew, and so she turned to the multitude of big-name developers for help, bringing with her the promise of riches and wealth unlike any they’d ever imagined. However, also like every novice game developer, she seemed to consider her brainchild the greatest thing since sliced bread.</p><p>“So… What do you think?” Melissa asked with wide blue eyes.</p><p>Lydia started in a careful tone, “I’m going to be honest with you, Ms. Daniels. Silverflux isn’t going to pick up this game. It’s too…bloated.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” She quirked a thin eyebrow at Lydia.</p><p>“I mean to say, this is a bit too much for a romance game. Don’t get me wrong, it’s certainly an appealing concept. ‘After a chance encounter of a lifetime, a young girl is chosen to become the legendary Maiden of Light, destined to cleanse the world of darkness and bring peace to the realm of Midgard once and for all.’ It’s just that-”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“-Maybe you could spend a bit more time expanding on this? It seems like a waste to put this on the back burner.”</p><p>“Well, it wouldn’t be a romance game if it didn’t focus on romance.”</p><p>“I understand that, but there’s a lot more to be explored in this game. Take the academy for instance. You could spend a little more time on what they do there, and how the heroine navigates the upper echelons of society.”</p><p>Daniels scoffed, saying, “This is not a stuffy Shakespeare play. You think teenage girls are going to care about what happens at a school that’s not real?”</p><p>“Be that as it may, that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a complex narrative. The war at the end of the story is another opportunity for some complexity. Maybe you should just remove it altogether? It didn’t make much sense from a storytelling standpoint.”</p><p>“She’s supposed to cleanse the realm of darkness. War seems like an obvious way to wrap that up.”</p><p>“Yes, but the issue is there was no build-up. Now, this-” Lydia gestured to the disaster zone of sloppily written notes on her desk, “-has the capacity to become something truly beautiful, but right now, it’s just a mess of plot points stuck together with glue and a little red string. Ms. Daniels, surely you are aware that Silverflux has a reputation to uphold?”</p><p>Melissa scoffed. “Are you kidding me? You haven’t even released a game in five years!”</p><p>“Our motto is quality over quantity, and it worked for us for the past twenty years. Not to say that your game doesn’t have quality – there’s potential here – but in its current form, we would be losing money if we took you on. I’m sorry, but we’ll be rejecting your current offer for a partnership.”</p><p>Melissa’s ears turned red as she jumped up from her seat.</p><p>“You just missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime!” She snatched up the mess of papers she had plopped on Lydia’s desk, haphazardly stuffing them back into her portfolio.</p><p>Lydia blinked at her incredulously. “I didn’t say that we would never take you on, I just think-”.</p><p>“You had the next big thing, right in your lap! This could’ve been your masterpiece!” She stomped to the door, huffing and puffing all the while.</p><p>“Ms. Daniels, wait!”</p><p>“But don’t come crying to me when Silverflux finally kicks the bucket!” Melissa Daniels slammed the door behind her, and Lydia couldn’t help but wince in response. The door was made of frosted glass, and she wasn’t sure the company could afford to replace it.</p><p>Silverflux Entertainment Studios, despite it earning a name for itself in producing high-quality games, was indeed struggling. While their latest game had been released to critical acclaim, it barely managed to break even. This, coupled with the bonuses the higher-ups kept giving themselves, and the little regard they had for the game developers, meant the company was barely keeping its head above water. Lately, her boss had been putting more pressure on her for the publishing aspect of the company; their next game wouldn’t be ready for another year, so in the meantime, they had to search for something to keep the company afloat.</p><p>Since then, Lydia had encountered all manner of developers, many like Melissa Daniels, but a few managing to be cut above the rest. Unfortunately those worthy few happened to be protected by lawyers and agents that didn’t seem inclined to accept the contracts Lydia put forward. This left her between a rock and a hard place – everyday options like Daniels’ game would come to her desk and nine of them met the company’s standards.</p><p>“Miss Johnson?” came a soft voice from the order side of the door.</p><p>“Yes, Hayden, come in.” There was a weariness to her voice now that she had reclined into her computer chair.</p><p>The door swung open, revealing the familiar image of her secretary, wringing his freckled hands.</p><p>“Your mother called earlier. She had a message she wanted me to pass on.” Lydia’s heart stopped. Almost immediately, a sense of dread settled into her bones, accompanied by a deep chill that reached into the core of her being.</p><p>“… What did she say?” Hayden opened his mouth to respond, but he barely got even a syllable out before she interrupted him. “You know what? Don’t tell me. My mother is the last thing I need on my plate right now.”</p><p>Lydia stood up and strode to the coat rack, pulling her burgundy peacoat over her shoulders.</p><p>Hayden caught her shoulder as she walked by. “Where are you going? The meeting with the rest of the board is tonight.”</p><p>“Out. If this meeting is anything like the last one, it can just be an email.”</p><p>“What about your mother? She wanted a response from you at least before 7:00.” Her step faltered. If she decided not to respond, her mother would probably ream her out for ignoring her. But then again, whatever response she gave to her mother could just as easily set her off as well.</p><p>“Tell her I’m not feeling well.” There was a certain truth to that. “I’ll call her in the morning.” Still, she couldn’t stop the tight bundle of nerves settling into her stomach. She was already dreading tomorrow morning. She marched out of the office before Hayden prompt anything more.</p><p>And so, Lydia left the prestigious office to join the evening dredge of exhausted workers returning home. Where was she going? She didn’t know, but any place was better than the office, as long it meant she wouldn’t have to talk to her mother.</p><hr/><p>Lydia blinked with wide eyes as she took in the scene unfolding before her. Across the street sat a woman rubbing her head as he started forlornly as the wrecked sports car sitting a few feet away. Next to her car was a balding man in a suit – he had the air of a lawyer – yelling at the poor EMT trying to help him. To the left of that was a truck driver, sobbing into his hands as he tried to explain to the police officers what had transpired. And in the center of it all, sat Lydia’s silver BMW, with her body slumped over the steering wheel, wide hazel eyes staring into the unknown.</p><p>It happened too fast for her to react. There was a green light on her lane, and she moved forward, but the truck driver hadn’t been paying attention to the red light when he pulled up. Getting t-boned in the middle of an intersection always sounded like something that happened on TV shows when the directors were too lazy to give a character a satisfying ending. It was either that or a convenient job offer that just so happened to take them miles away. To think it could happen here, like this – it sounded asinine.</p><p>Even despite this, she couldn’t even muster up any anger towards the truck driver. He was only going about his day, the same as her. Although maybe he didn’t leave the office after getting a call from his mother. This had to be one of the most expensive mistakes she’d ever made. There was a sizeable dent in her car, although it would have been more accurate to say it was a crater. There was blood spilling over her once immaculate leather seats; it was hard enough to get blood out of clothing, so she could only imagine what a chore it would be to clean bloody leather. It hardly occurred to her that she wouldn’t be the one paying for any of it.</p><p>“<strong>Lydia Johnson.</strong>” Lydia turned to meet the woman who called her name, but she found no one. Instead, she found a set of talons as long as she was tall. Her gaze trailed up the animalistic arm, whose coat seemed to change from brilliant vermilion fur to gleaming iridescent scales to unfathomable cobalt feathers, until she finally came up to the head, adorned by a crown of antlers that seemed to change ever so slightly when Lydia blinked. It wasn’t sound to call her a god; she seemed too great to be disgraced by that title.</p><p>“<strong>You have been chosen.</strong>” The colossal being had a mouth to speak with, but her voice seemed to simply project itself into Lydia’s mind.</p><p>“Chosen? Chosen for what?” She still couldn’t comprehend that this wasn’t some strange fever dream.</p><p>“Do you know who I am?”</p><p>Lydia could only offer a dumbfounded shake of her head. The titan pressed a claw to Lydia’s forehead, and a great chill coursed through her body.</p><p>“Wait, you’re from that game – the one Daniels tried to sell me! Who are you?”</p><p>“<strong>It is no mere game.”</strong> She waved a talon, and the towering skyscrapers melted away, replaced by the rolling fields and extravagant castles of <em>Sorceress</em>’ setting.</p><p>“<strong>I am called Aen, Mother of All Monsters, Conqueror of the Abyssal Planes.</strong>” As Aen spoke, distant figures appeared on the horizon – from mammoth dragons to graceful unicorns to noble griffons,</p><p>“<strong>I am an Arnus Run – a Primordial. I was here long before the realm of Lofarion came into existence, and I will be here long after it ends.</strong>”</p><p>“<strong>When the Arnus Run created Vostea, the world of the so-called-game you speak of, we made humans and monsters as brothers and sisters.</strong>” The images around the two changed to a sprawling city, filled with crowds of orcs, giants, humans; all working and living together in a place that dwarfed even the greatest of civilizations.</p><p>“<strong>But humanity grew to fear their sister race. There were some among my children that believed they should be the sole rulers of the realm. They attacked humanity with a viciousness never before seen, and so humankind and monsterkind turned on one another.</strong>” The city was engulfed in flames and ash as the people began a bloody clash in the streets. They attacked whoever they could get a hold of, no matter their status, no matter their race. The once extravagant city was brought to its knees in an instant, with only ruins left to show for their accomplishments.</p><p>“<strong>Humankind ultimately won and established a vast empire – one you may know as the Golden Empire of Draentis.</strong>” Tall spires plated in shining gold shot up from the ruins, eclipsing the decrepit city behind walls of marble and luxurious palaces. The humans returned to the city in droves, but there wasn’t even a single goblin among them.</p><p>“<strong>Now my children live in shackles, under the hand of their New Gods.</strong>” The scenery changed once more, this time showing lines of orcs trudging along muddy roads, their backs raw from being flogged. Behind them came bloodstained cages holding despondent. One held a unicorn, its once pure white coat, matted and dingy, stretched over jutting bones. Another held a manticore, far too big for the cage it had been shoved in, its mane and claws suspiciously absent, and it’s tail limp against the floor of the cage.</p><p>“I-I’m so sorry,” Lydia spluttered out. “But why me? I’m just a businesswoman! Why not any of your followers?” The scenery melted away, leaving the two in a foggy expanse, with other looming figures in the background, all watching Lydia with piercing eyes.</p><p>“<strong>When the New Gods took power, they severed our connection to the realm. We can no longer answer their prayers, their cries for help, their desperate pleas for action. We can only watch and listen. But we found an escape. While we can no longer interact with Lofarien, we can find others do so for us.</strong>”</p><p>“I don’t understand.”</p><p>“<strong>Be my champion. Right the wrongs we cannot.</strong>” Lydia opened her mouth to protest, but no words came to mind. The images she had just witnessed had done their job in convincing her.</p><p>“What will happen to me if I go?”</p><p>“<strong>You’ll become someone else. The New Gods would stop us if they saw a human, not of their creation in their world. You must take the form of someone already there, take on a new life.</strong>”</p><p>Lydia’s mind raced at a million miles per minute. She thought of her mother – surely she would pull her back into the world if she tried. But it wasn’t as if she had power over her now; Lydia was dead. Then she thought of her brothers, they would weep if they knew she was going off to some foreign world to fight for a god. But they wouldn’t know that she was leaving because she was already gone; Lydia was dead. She thought of her job – they still needed her, especially Hayden, who was too meek to fight for himself whenever the directors tried to cut him away. But there was little she could do for any of them now; Lydia was dead. She was truly, unmistakably, absolutely dead. There was nothing left for her on Earth.</p><p>“… What have I got to lose?” she muttered with a tinge of bitterness. She closed her eyes, trying to scrub away the images of the monsters in chains. Instead, she thought of the ones before – of sprawling cities filled with human and beast alike, of kind smiling faces and open arms, of children playing in the street with no fear.</p><p>“I’m ready.”</p><p>Aen pressed a claw to Lydia’s forehead again and the world went dark.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter One: Arraignment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lydia arrives in Lofarien and takes her first steps towards accomplishing the task asked of her.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lydia’s eyelids felt like sandpaper as she slid them open. Her throat was so dry that it almost hurt to breathe in, and as she sat up she found herself cringing at the light streaming in through the windows. She forced her eyes to stay open as took in her new surroundings - it didn’t look like anything she had seen in <em>Sorceress</em>.</p><p>From the looks of it, she had ended up somewhere extravagant. The bed she sat on was a luxurious four-poster bed with a canopy, and far too big for just one person. There was more furniture like that all across the room: there was a vanity sitting in the corner with golden inlays on the mirror and dresser, a fireplace big enough to warm the whole room across from the bed, and a loveseat with silken cushions right by the lofty windows.</p><p>Lydia peeled back the silken covers of the bed, pressing her feet into the cool marble tile beneath her. Her toes curled in response, and as she looked over the pale lilac nightgown she was wearing, a line of goosebumps ran up her arms. It wasn’t from the floor, rather it came from the sense of something looming just at the edge of her consciousness. Had she forgotten something?</p><p>Lydia forced herself to stand, albeit shakily, and she stumbled towards the vanity like a newborn faun. Her arms and legs felt like lead. Why was she so sluggish? She was supposed to be asleep before all this happened, at least that’s what she assumed, so she should have been ready to go for the morning. After finally reaching the vanity, she plopped down in the seat to give herself a breath – she’d never had this much trouble just walking from one end of the room to another.</p><p>Lydia pulled her head up to stare into the mirror, finding a face that was both familiar and foreign at the same time. Her sepia skin seemed to clash with her eyes, which had become a pale icy blue, accented by long hair as black as the night sky. She had dark circles under her eyes and there was a hollowness to her cheeks that made her resemble a prisoner more than a noblewoman. Even now she still had no idea who she was. As she turned her head this way and that, something bright glinted in the corner of her eye. Lydia turned her head to stare at it, sending a wave of nausea flowing over her. It was a simple teacup with silver paint and flowering designs; it was the only thing in the room with such a design, which only made it stand out even more.</p><p>Lydia picked it up, turning it over and inspecting it. There was just a gulp of tea left in the cup, and she was tempted to stick a finger in it to taste it before she stopped herself.</p><p><em>Poison.</em> The word came to mind in an instant. The tea had a sweet honeyed smell to it, but there was an underlying hint of tartness that didn’t mix well with the overall aroma.</p><p>Had someone tried to poison her? The tea was practically gone, so that would mean the body Lydia had taken control of was dead as well. But this still didn’t answer the question of who she was now. There were so many reasons why someone like her would be poisoned. Maybe it was for revenge, maybe it was for political reasons; it could have even been plain incompetence. God only knows how many were lost to the plague of stupidity in the annals of history.</p><p>“Lady Protea?” called a voice through the door. This was just wonderful – out of all the people she could have been in this new world, she just had to become the villain. Great.</p><p>“Come in,” she said hoarsely. She rubbed her throat; it felt like sandpaper.</p><p>A woman with a heavy figure walked into the room, clothed in a pastel blue dress with a simple bodice and skirt. There were was something uncanny to the woman’s face. From a distance, she appeared ordinary; red cheeks, heart-shaped face, button nose, wide violet eyes. But as she walked closer, Lydia could see that was where the ordinary ended. Her skin was like porcelain, pale as fresh snow, and it seemed to be almost stretched across her bones. Her hair was like plastic - it didn’t move in any of the ways regular hair did - and far too bright a blond to not be dyed. Her eyes reminded her of the glassy stare of a doll; like someone had put so much detail into them that no longer appeared human.</p><p>The woman - Zephyrine, she finally remembered - let out a sigh of relief as she looked at Protea.</p><p>
  <em>Did she know about the poison?</em>
</p><p>“I’ve prepared breakfast for you,” she said as she set a plate of eggs and pancakes in front of her. She stayed deathly silent as Lydia - or maybe Protea - ate. There was an awkwardly tense atmosphere settling over the room.</p><p>After a moment, Zephyrine cleared her throat and spoke, “The trial is today.”</p><p>Lydia began to ask what she meant, and then she remembered. In <em>Sorceress</em>, Protea had tried to kill Briar more than once. Right after the war had ended, the game said Protea would be taken to trial, but there was no mention of what became of her after that. A pang of bitterness ran across her tongue, her fingers curling tightly into a fist. At the same time, her heart jumped and a queasy feeling settled into the pit of her stomach. It seemed there were a few pieces of Protea left, stubbornly clinging to whatever was left of her being.</p><p>“What do you plan to do?”</p><p>“I... I don’t know yet,” Protea said after a while. “How much time do I have?”</p><p>“A few hours, at the most.” It was better than nothing.</p><p>“I need a pen and paper.” Zephyrine nodded, turning around and rushing down the hallway. Soon she returned and handed Protea a fountain pen and a simple leather-bound notebook.</p><p>With these in hand, she began to plan her next move. If she had learned anything from her years at Silverflux, it was how to make a convincing argument. She could only hope the Court would be willing to hear her out.</p><hr/><p>Protea stood before the towering mahogany doors that guarded the throne room of the palace against the peering eyes of the rest of the world. She gripped the waist of her dress, digging through the fabric at the corset underneath. In her head, she turned over the plan she made; she went over it forwards, backward, she took it apart and put it back together, but still, goosebumps ran up and down her arms. Zephyrine had been escorted away by the Royal Guards, which left Protea with the two guards appointed to watch over her and the lawyer defending her, a stocky man by the name Valentin Herridge.</p><p>She lifted a hand to move a strand of hair behind her ear. One of the guards sent a warning glance in her direction and Protea quickly snapped it back to her side. It was clear she wouldn’t get any sympathy from either of them.</p><p>“Are you sure about this?” Valentin whispered to her from the corner of his mouth. His hazel eyes darted from her to the doors repeatedly, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other every so often.</p><p>“I’m positive,” Protea replied in a low voice. “This is going to work.” Her mouth was like sandpaper as she spoke. Not even she had much faith in the strategy she has written up, but it was better than nothing.</p><p>They had been standing there for what felt like hours; pins and needles had started to dig into her feet, not helped by the tight oxford shoes she stuffed her feet into. Aside from the lawyer’s occasional check-ins and the faint chattering from behind the door, it was completely silent. A tense atmosphere had fallen over the room, not helped by the guards’ stony silence.</p><p>Finally, the dark doors opened, revealing a lanky man with brown hair, a long pencil neck, and a nose that reminded her of a beak. He kept his head rigidly turned upwards so that no matter if he has taller or shorter than the other people in the room he would always be looking down on them.</p><p>He sniffed in a high, nasal voice, “His Royal Highness shall be seeing you now.”</p><p>Protea breathed in as deeply as her corset would allow her. She went to take a step forward, but the guards at her sides seized her arm before her foot hit the ground. The door swung open, and he tugged her forward harshly, forcing her to stumble to keep up with them. It was here that Protea became aware of how deeply loathed she was in Draentis.</p><p>As Protea was hauled through the magnificent throne room, a silence like death fell over the room, broken only by a few whispers. A man in a navy blue vest in the floor seats narrowed his eyes at her as she walked by, staring through her with dark deep-set eyes. In the balcony above, a redheaded woman in a red dress turned to whisper something in her friend’s ear and held a fan in front of her lips; the telltale crinkling of her eyes and the quirk of the other woman’s lips said it was something mocking. Near the front of the room sat two empty seats, engraved with a shield set behind a snowy owl with a saber in its talons. This was the coat of arms of the Fynderne name, the ruling family of the city of Frostenden. Protea’s nerves wound themselves into a tight ball. Not even her parents were here to support her.</p><p>The guard shoved her forward as they reached the front of the room where a simple podium was set near the throne. As she turned to the front of the room, her heart seemed to jump into her throat as she locked eyes with Emperor Constantin’s steely-eyed glare. She turned her eyes downward as quickly as she could, but she still managed to catch the slight sneer in the corner of his mouth.</p><p>The attendant cleared his throat, then pressed his hand to his throat, lime green rays of light flowing from his wand. Protea couldn’t help but send an occasional glance his way.</p><p>“The date is Firedawn, 5th of Regnausa, Year 433,” His voice echoed around the courtroom, much in the same way nails on a chalkboard carried across a classroom. “The following court session is an arraignment for the defendant, Protea Fynderne of Frostenden. The indictment reads as follows: ’The Royal Jury charges, Count One, Attempt to Assassinate the Blessed Maiden of Humanity.”</p><p>“On the fourth day of the Emperor’s Tourney, which took place on the 22nd of Wolvsigas, Year 432, the defendant knowingly used a lethal spell in an attempt to kill the Blessed Maiden of Humanity, as defined in the 16 Imperial Code 4536(a). Count Two, Attempt to Undermine the Established Line of Succession. On the 8th of Aluvi, Year 433, the defendant...”</p><p>Protea said nothing as the man droned on, instead, she kept her head down and stared almost forlornly at her shoes. The Emperor came from the House of Drerrourn, and they’ve held a deep grudge against the House of Fynderne for centuries now. Even if she wasn’t in the line of succession, she was still of Fynderne blood, and that made her a target.</p><p>“Mr. Herridge, have you discussed all the charges set forth with your client?” The attendant asked.</p><p>“I have,” Valentine responded in an even voice.</p><p>“Does your client wish to enter a plea at this time?”</p><p>“Yes. She will plead <em>nolo contendere</em> to all charges.”</p><p>A hush ran through the crowd like tides hitting a beach. Clearly, the Court had expected something different - judging by their reactions earlier, they were probably expecting a shouting match or something akin to that.</p><p>Emperor Constantin’s voice boomed, “Quiet!” The throne room returned to that familiar tense silence.</p><p>“Protea.” She allowed herself to lift her head enough to see the Emperor’s tunic. “Have you discussed this plea entirely with Mr. Herridge?”</p><p>“I have.”</p><p>“And you are fully aware of the consequences that come with such a plea?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Very well then.” The king turned to whisper briefly in the attendant’s ear.</p><p>“By the order of the Royal Court of the Empire of Draentis and the Goddess’s Will, I, Emperor Constantin Drerrourn of Draentis, hereby sentence you to exile for life.” Protea felt a rush of excitement run through her, but she forced her face to remain stony. “You are to serve your sentence in the Wretched Lands for the rest of your life.”</p><p>“You are not to speak to or contact anyone from the Empire or its territories for any reason whatsoever. You are not to set foot on the Empire’s lands or any of its territories. Should you violate any of these compulsions, you will be punished by death.”</p><p>“I accept His Majesty’s punishment,” Protea let her voice waver ever so slightly. The rest of the court practically flew by, and she hardly noticed when the guards returned to haul her out of the throne room.</p><p>Zephyrine perked up as she came to her in the hall. “Did it work?”</p><p>“Yes. I have a month to get the rest of my affairs in order.”</p><p>“Forgive me for asking my lady, but what exactly was the purpose of this plan? I don’t see how getting exiled is going to help matters.”</p><p>“You’ll know soon enough.” Zephyrine was only familiar with the old Protea, and she couldn’t imagine the maid would react well to finding out that her lady was gone. It was just another variable that could put a wrench in her plans.</p><p>But for now, the “easy” part of her plan was over. What came next presented a nigh insurmountable goal; the Wretched Lands were home to the biggest population of monsters on the entire planet. If this world was anything like her old one, finding a way to unite them and humans would be the hardest part of the plan.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Two: Landing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Protea arrives in Uliazin.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Land ho!" cried the husky voice of the ship's watch.</p><p>"Finally," Protea muttered under her breath as she stood from the tiny bench she'd been confined to in the galley. As she stood, she stretched and rolled her shoulder back - three weeks of nothing but sitting and laying down hadn't exactly done wonders for her back.</p><p>She shuddered as she stepped out onto the deck of the ship, pulling her cloak closer around her. Snow gently drifted through the air which prompted her to pull the hood of the cloak over her. The dead of winter had come and it certainly felt like it. Throughout the whole of the trip, Protea, and the warden assigned to her had been forced to sit by the tiny hearth that occupied the cabin.</p><p>Protea squinted as she peered into the foreboding mist surrounding the ship. Far into the distance was a wall of dark, craggy shapes, growing ever closer. There were tiny islands on either side of the ship, devoid of any features aside from the occasional palm tree or rock. It didn't seem like there was any life in the gulf - the water seemed oddly still, something Protea was grateful for, considering that they had been caught in a storm a week into the journey, but even still it was unnerving. There was a sense of complete and total emptiness, not even broken by the occasional call of a seagull.</p><p>"Beautiful, isn't it?" Protea jumped as she whipped around to face the warden. The ochre skinned woman stared at her with a wide grin, green eyes sharply focused on the craggy cliffs and gravelly beach ahead and wild ginger curls sitting haphazardly on her head.</p><p>"I suppose," Protea replied after a while. Willow Highmore was an odd woman, to say the least. When they boarded the ship together, Willow asked about the bird faced woman on the front of the ship.</p><p>The red-faced man stared at her with one glassy eye and one eye that looked through her and said, "Consider yourself lucky, lass. Few sailors have had the fortune to never meet a harpy."</p><p>"Harpy?" Willow asked. "I thought the sirens were the ones that attacked ships."</p><p>"They attack all the same. But at least the sirens'll give you a quick death. If ye run into a harpy's flock, Gods help you."</p><p>"What happens with the harpies?" Willow leaned forward ever so slightly, bright green eyes carrying a certain glint.</p><p>The captain set his jaw like concrete and said in a low harsh voice, "They'll follow you to the ends of the earth, cackling like crows all the while. Ye'll never have another peaceful sleep, they'll make sure of it. You'll lose everything: your fortune, your family, your mind. I seen it once, when I was a wee swab." The captain turned away, directing an unfocused glare at the frothing seawater. "Took all our cargo and a few of my mates. None of 'em have ever set foot on a deck again."</p><p>"Is that how you lost your eye?" Willow prodded.</p><p>The captain whipped around like a top, his scarred lip curling up into a sneer. He hasn't spoken to her since then. Willow didn't seem to mind all that much. After all, there were other people on board she could bother.</p><p>"Do you know how Uliazin came to be?" Willow turned to her with that same glint in her eye.</p><p>"I know of the Nine Days' War, yes," Protea said carefully, "After the New Gods banished the Arn- the Primordials from the realm, they realized their fighting had nearly destroyed Vostea. As a solution, they elected to remake the world in their image, but they kept a few parts of it so humanity wouldn't forget about what had happened. They called this new continent Uliazin, the Wretched Lands."</p><p>"Ah, but you don't know the story of Infinitum?"</p><p>"No, I don't. Enlighten me." Willow's smile seemed to get wider, and Protea suddenly regretted her decision to humor the warden.</p><p>"Infinitum is, or was, the capital of the Old World. Back when the War first started, monster kind - the demons, in particular - banished them all from the capitol. When humanity fought back against the demons, they took Infinitum for themselves, but the previous owner left a little surprise for them. The castle, the grand jewel of the capital, is said to be enchanted, but if you ask everyone else they'll tell you it was cursed."</p><p>"How so?"</p><p>"The castle seemed to be alive! Walled-off hallways, stairs that went nowhere, windows that keep changing; it practically drove their king insane! Many an unfortunate soldier has been lost to the changing walls. I wonder if there are still bodies left there..." Willow turned back to the dark cliffs they were approaching.</p><p>Protea felt a shiver run up her spine. So it seemed the castle had some skeletons in its closet, maybe even in a literal sense.</p><p>The castle's top spires pierced through the fog, golden tips glinting through the thin layer of snow that had covered them. The many towers that made it up slowly came into view as they grew closer to the gravelly beach. The stone practically immaculate, untouched by the weathering of time and nature. If Willow's story was true, then the castle has been standing strong for over 400 years.</p><p>As the ship floated into what remained of the harbor, Protea looked up at the daunting cliffs. There was only a tiny path carved into the craggy cliffside that winded upwards at a slow rate. For a moment she wondered how they would take all their luggage up with them; the gulf had a line of sharp rocks at the entrance so if high tide came, the sailors wouldn't be able to leave for months. Then Zephyrine pulled out a wand made from hard oak and caught the bags and suitcases in a violet aura that matched her eyes.</p><p>Protea couldn't help but marvel at it; it was one thing to see magic through a set of pixels, but it was another thing entirely to see it right in front of your eyes.</p><p>Protea stepped on to the rotting wood of the dock with wobbling legs like a baby deer. The captain quickly took up the wooden plank that connected the tiny ship with the landing, and they were gone without so much as a goodbye. Sometimes she forgot just how much she was hated on the mainland.</p><p>It took a good fifteen minutes to travel up the precarious pathway. Several times, Protea almost slipped off the snowy footpath, and Willow seemed absolutely tickled by that, much to Protea's chagrin. Oddly enough, Zephyrine didn't have any problems getting up the path, even with the added weight of everyone's luggage - although, her magic may have eliminated that factor entirely.</p><p>When they came up to the top of the cliff, the motley group found that they would have to circle around to the front of the complex in order to enter it, which elicited a round of silent bemoaning from Protea. After what seemed like an eternity of walking, they finally came to the front gates. A sense of deep despair fell over Protea as she took in the once great citadel, now merely a shell of itself. All around them were remains of life; withering trees with dingy ribbons tied to their branches, broken down carriages with shattered windows, and empty ruins of houses filled with rotting furniture. In the walls of the city, there was only one structure that was fully intact: the castle complex in all of its macabre majesty.</p><p>They walked through the gates dilapidated gates unimpeded - it seemed they weren't part of the castle itself so they were simply left to rot away. In front of the complex itself, there was a single stele carved from black quartz. There was a passage at the bottom written in Enirkria, the common language of all monsterkind. But it was the passage at the top that caught Protea's attention.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Whosoever sets foot on this land, if they are of daemon blood, shall become master of this land.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Raf'r whuruyas rarlae uk dhaur aesd, au esa rha u naenuk fruun, rherr fasuna nerdas u dhaur rek'n.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Zephyrine simply walked by, the stele seemingly invisible to her, and Willow stopped to give it a cursory glance, pausing for a split second on the bottom passage before passing on. Protea rushed forward to stop them - Willow's story had unnerved the young woman - but as soon as she set foot on the stone steps behind the monument, a sound like the screeching of nails on a chalkboard rung through her ears, accompanied by deep intense pressure. Then it was over as soon as it happened. Protea blinked and looked down at herself. She was still wearing the same dress and it didn't feel like she'd been hurt.</p><p>"Is there something wrong, my Lady?" Zephyrine looked at her with a mote of worry.</p><p>"No, I..." Protea struggled to voice her thoughts at first. "I'm fine. I just thought I heard something." Although, she did notice that the castle didn't seem as daunting as it did before. It even felt welcoming in a certain sense.</p><p>As they came across the front courtyard, all coated in a light layer of frost, it became clear that there was some measure of truth to Willow's tale. Everything typical of a castle was there. There were purple banners adorning the walls and the space above the doorways, all depicting a golden wyvern with a spear clutched tightly in its talons. A grand fountain sat in the middle of the fountain where a sultry figure with horns and cloven hooves sat with a beckoning gesture. The steps that led up into the main building were decorated with a purple carpet similar to the banners which had swirling gold designs along the edges. They pushed past the giant doors of the building and finally came to a stop before the two curving sets of stairs. Zephyrine set the luggage down in a heap near the doors.</p><p>"So, what shall we do now?" Willow turned to the others with a tilt of her head.</p><p>"We should take inventory," Zephyrine suggested. "Patrol the grounds, make sure everything is in order. There's no guarantee that we're the only ones here."</p><p>As much as Protea wanted to gripe, she was right. They were in unfamiliar territory right now, and it wouldn't do to live in a place that still had hiding spots.</p><p>"Let's go." And so the group set off once more, despite the pins and needles that ran through her legs.</p><p>They came across a kitchen connected to a dining room that doubled as a ballroom. The hearths in the kitchen still had firewood sitting underneath them and the chopping boards still had knives and forks lodged in the blocks. There was no food, none that was edible at least. The majority had either been taken or left to rot.</p><p>At the back of the complex, there was a garden overlooking the massive gulf. The space it occupied was small, so it had to get creative with a terraced design. There were many fantastical plants here; one flower was big enough for a human to sit in, a tree had bunches of tiny pink berries even in the winter, and another plant that sat in the garden's waterfall pond with iridescent transparent leaves. Protea would have stayed there longer if Zephyrine hadn't pulled her away.</p><p>There was a multitude of bedrooms as well, exactly 38 if Zephyrine was correct. They all had some manner of silken sheets and fluffy pillows, but of course, everything was suspiciously empty. There were a few articles of clothing left behind, but Protea didn't feel particularly inclined to any of them. Willow on the other hand was very much interested. She whisked them away to parts unknown before anyone could even ask her what she would do with them.</p><p>"Oh, poo," Willow pouted childishly, "We didn't even find anything interesting."</p><p>"Maybe you didn't," Protea said under her breath. On their way to the main bedrooms, she finally found the room that she'd really been searching for: the library.</p><p>The books were as untouched as ever, with no even a speck of dust to speak of in the whole room. The shelves seemed to stretch on forever, the structures towering over the tiny alcoves that once held studious scholars. In the very center of the room, there was a tall stained glass window overlooking a recessed area that held a wide oak tree and a small grassy field. The oak's bark had veins running along the trunk and branches with an otherworldly light running through them. Magic moved through this place in droves, and Protea could feel her skin tingle in excitement. She couldn't tell it was from the mystic atmosphere or if it was just her, but she didn't care.</p><p>This was where her plan was going to be realized in its entirety. All the information here - the tomes, the scrolls, the archives - held the key parts to all of her machinations. There was only one question left; where would she go from here?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Protea's Diary - I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wow, two chapters today! I'm on a roll~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="ql-align-center">
  
  <em class="ql-font-serif">Mountdawn, 4th of Regnausa, Year 433</em>
</p><p class="ql-align-center"> </p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">    It's over. Briar has finally bested me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">    I've lost everything. My reputation is in shambles. Mother and Father won't even look at me anymore. Johannes spits at me when we talk. Prince Galian has annulled my engagement. I don't even have a title to my name; I'm just Protea Fynderne now. I haven't left the palace in days; I don't think anyone will let me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">    All this because of her. I should have killed her when we first met. She's untouchable now - there's no way to fix this mess. There's no magic in the world that would be able to send me back far enough to prevent this from ever happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">    Tomorrow, I'll be taken to the capital for trial. Without a title or my connection to Galian, I'll be completely at the Court's mercy. They won't kill me, I know. Emperor Constantin wouldn't risk the wrath of Frostenden when we have control of most of his military. But that's where it stops. If I'm lucky, his majesty will just send me to the coal mines, where I'll slave the rest of my life away in filth. If not - Gods help me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">    I won't plead guilty; I'm still a Fynderne and I would sooner die than get on my knees and beg that bitch for mercy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">    There's still one way to fix this. The alchemist that makes my medicine is still here. I've asked him to remake the poison from before. He'll be done with it tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">    I haven't told Zephyrine my plan yet, but I think she's starting to catch on. I'm sure she wanted me to flee Frostenden. She tried to get me to go out today, but there's no point. Wherever I go, Galian will find me. I dread to think of what will happen to me should I be caught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">    This is going to work. It has to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">    This is my final entry here. Farewell.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
  <em class="ql-font-serif">Sincerely,</em>
</p><p>
  <em class="ql-font-serif">    Protea Fynderne of Frostenden</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Three: First Contact</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Protea slammed the heavy leather-bound notebook down on the table with a huff. So far she had gone through eight different books, two dozen tomes, and even a few artifacts, but nothing she found had given her the insight she had wanted or needed. The library was indeed a wealth of information - at least it was 400 years ago. There was no guarantee that any of what she had just read now was still accurate. The only things that maybe had some weight to it were the maps of Uliazin.</p><p>The region was a small continent surrounded by ocean - one of which was pure red all year round. They were practically on the other side of the hemisphere from the Empire. Although, she couldn’t quite tell. Based on all the models she had seen, Vostea was actually two times bigger than Earth.</p><p>On the bright side, she had finally learned why everyone called Uliazin “the Wretched Lands.” True to all the lore and myth she had studied since arriving, Uliazin was a mishmash of several different biomes, each unique and distinct from one another. There was the Gulf of Uliazin which had the Mahogueuil Archipelago in it (she had already made a point of altering the old maps to say that the islands were no longer inhabit.). In the center of Uliazin was the Isolated Plateau, where Infinitum was located, made up of plains and prairies, and a few forested areas. To the west was Scarholme, a large desert/savannah biome, named after the huge canyon that ran through the center of the desert. To the north was the Whimpering Expanse which consisted purely of tundra and cold mountains. And finally, to the far east of the plateau was the Dilruti Jungle, a massive rainforest with swamps and mangroves at the edges.</p><p>This was as much as she could get from the archives. Everything else was at best outdated, or worse, downright wrong. Protea was stuck. Her earlier success in the courtroom had convinced her that there would be a clear path to victory in Uliazin, but that had been a clear misconception.</p><p>“My Lady?” Zephyrine called as she came in.</p><p>“What is it?” Protea hadn’t spoken to her much outside of when she brought her meals to the library.</p><p>“We’re running low on food. Willow and I are heading to the woods outside of the city for more.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“Well,” Zephyrine shifted awkwardly, “You’ve been inside for so long. It would do you some good to get out for a while.”</p><p>Protea began to send her away, but as she looked back at the heaps of book books and paper strewn across the desk where she’d spent the past few days, she suddenly found herself agreeing with her lady-in-waiting.</p><p>“I suppose some air would be nice.” Protea closed rolled up the map she’d been staring at and tucked it into her pocket. It wasn’t as if she was going to get anywhere else just by sitting and looking at the paper.</p><hr/><p>Protea tried to ignore the soft crunching of snow under her boots as she walked through the underbrush. Everything seemed much louder when you were trying to be clandestine. The Red Forest was full of barren trees and bushes, which provided little cover for them to shield them from anything they would be hunting. It wasn’t as if there was much to hunt here, seeing how winter would still be here even after the equinox passed in two days. The most they had eaten during this period of time were a few hares, a deer, and a healthy helping of those strange berries from the garden - odines, the books called them.</p><p>They were extinct everyone else in the world, which could be accredited to the Reshaping. Amazingly there were a few trees in the garden with odines in their branches. It might have even been a common fruit. Protea looked up at the leaf-bare branches above her. The trees didn’t look any different from normal ones, but there was a part of her that couldn’t help but wonder. How many plants had been lost to the ravages of time and the destruction of the Old World? Were there monsters like that too - people unfortunate enough to live in a world where the cosmic forces cared little for the lives of another ’s children?</p><p>Protea shuddered, but she could hardly say it was from the cold. Even if Aen was eternal, it was a shame to think that she would have to watch so many of her children be slaughtered.</p><p>“I found something!” Zephyrine chirped as she plodded through the sludge. In her hands, she held three hares, their pure white coats stained with rivulets of blood. Strangely, the hefty woman didn’t seem to have any weapons on her. Maybe she had just used her magic?</p><p>“Whoa,” Willow murmured with wide eyes. She and Protea had been searching for an hour and they hadn’t even found so much as a footprint.</p><p>“Good work,” Protea complimented, “We can head back now. I think that’s all we’ll need.”</p><p>“No, let’s keep going. There has to be more out there, right?” Willow interjected.</p><p>“I suppose so.” Zephyrine could have just been lucky. “You’re not going off on your own again are you?”</p><p>“Don’t you worry none, Lady Protea. I’ll be back before you know it.” Somehow, she felt inclined to believe her. Zephyrine disappeared into the underbrush, leaving Protea and Willow alone with only the occasional breeze to accompany them. For a moment they walked in complete silence, aside from the sound of their boots softly crunching in the snow.</p><p>Willow was the first to break the silence. “I wonder why they call it the Red Forest.”</p><p>“I’m sure the leaves are simply red all year round,” Protea brushed her off.</p><p>“The Red Sea of Dersidhe is like that too. But it’s not because of any natural qualities. It’s actually-”</p><p>“As lovely as it would be to speculate the origins of nature’s phenomena, we are supposed to be hunting, Willow.” She could already tell that the warden was about to start another one of her unnerving stories. Just two days ago, she had recounted one such tale about the Cursed Belladonnas in the garden. Protea had to choke back a gag; even thinking about it was unsettling her stomach.</p><p>Willow yelped and jumped back suddenly. Protea turned to ask what had happened, but then she was met with the sharp end of a crude spear. On the other end was a stout goblin with yellow-green skin, baring sharp yellow teeth in a deep sneer. He wore a tunic made from pelts haphazardly sewn together, and pants made from a similar material. His hands were tipped with black claws like a cat, and his yellow eyes dug into her with the intensity of a fire’s heat.</p><p>“Dsarferr’ae!” he cried in a shrill voice. He shoved the spear towards Protea’s neck, forcing her to back into Willow. More goblins appeared; some jumping down from the treetops, some from under the snow cover, and others from the nearby ferns and bushes.</p><p>In an instant, the group of warriors circled the two, forcing them back into the trunk of a wide tree.</p><p>“What did we do?” Protea gaped.</p><p>“They say we’re trespassers - this must be their territory!” Cynder said quickly. One goblin thrust his spear at Willow; she shrieked and turned to run, only to push Protea back into the tree. She had trapped the blue-eyed woman between her arms; she threw herself to the side immediately, but Protea noticed a slight red tint to her cheeks.</p><p>“Ruuk ed dhaus srudhar! Nird fa resha krufra’dhi,” one goblin chattered to the others. Another one, bulky for his small size, licked his lips maliciously and pulled a knife and fork from a pouch on his waist.</p><p>“Can you translate? What did they just say?”</p><p>“They think we’re nobles. I-” Willow shifted just a bit from her position, and the leader shoved her back again.</p><p>“We didn’t mean to trespass! We’re sorry,” Protea raised her hands and opened her palms, hoping they would see the gesture for it was.</p><p>“Naun kud naek wa du dsarferr. Esa wa russurr.” Willow’s voice quivered as she spoke.</p><p>The leader of the crowd scoffed. “Heya faak daerauk’r resdi twa’me uun.”</p><p>“They say we stole their food.” Willow didn’t dare take her eyes off them this time.</p><p>“We didn’t realize it was yours. My friend has three rabbits already. If we give them to you, will you let us go?”</p><p>“Heya seird wa dsa hesa’r. Ad rauya wa resha’me du resdi, waurr saraera resdi wa’te?” At that the leader seemed to almost falter; but then he dug his feet into the snow with a renewed hatred.</p><p>“There’s more food in the castle garden. It has food all year long. We could even give you a cut of that in addition to the hares.” Willow quickly repeated the sentence in Enirkria.</p><p>“Rann’r od rauka kruun naer. Neurrfa hurin deka wa uas?” A goblin with olive-green skin and a lanky figure spoke quietly to the one next to him. Their leader sent him a sideways glare to silence him. He barked a few orders at two other goblins, who quickly came to point their own crude weapons at the two.</p><p>The rest huddled into a small circle, chattering in hush voices and sneaking an occasional glance at Protea and Willow.</p><p>“What are they saying now?” Protea whispered.</p><p>“I can’t hear from here. I think they’re talking about your offer.”</p><p>Then Protea spied something from the corner of her eye - a flash of red fabric in the underbrush. Almost immediately, one of the goblins guarding the pair was picked up in a violet aura and hurled into a snowdrift.</p><p>“Zephyrine!” In all the tenseness of the moment, she had completely forgotten about her lady-in-waiting. The other guard let out a shout as Willow wrenched the spear from her hands and pushed her into the snow.</p><p>Immediately, Zephyrine lept from her hiding place, her hood falling from her head to reveal her blonde hair. She waved her wand, this time picking one goblin up and throwing it at the one unfortunate enough to be standing nearby.</p><p>“Wait! I don’t want to fight!” Protea cried. One goblin lunged at her with a crude dagger in hand, and she darted to the side in response.</p><p>“You don’t have a choice now,” Willow called over the fray of battle.</p><p>For a moment, Protea wondered how she would fight back. She didn’t have the advantage of a weapon, like Willow, or a wand she could use for magic like Zephyrine - then suddenly, streams of silver light shone through her gloves. She pulled them off, letting the magic flow freely from her hands.</p><p>It was almost instinct. With a shake of her hand, a wall of ice and snow materialized between her and the goblin in front of her. She made a pushing motion, and the wall mimicked her, pushing the goblin across the snow and pinning him into a tree. Another goblin charged at her with a battle cry. He was easily dispatched, a pillar of ice sending him flying into the air.</p><p>Protea spun around to find Willow and Zephyrine. She was met with another goblin, the same lanky olive-green one from before. He held his spear almost reluctantly, and for a quick, fleeting moment the two simply stared at one another.</p><p>“Sadsaed!” The leader called in that same shrill voice. The ragtag group of goblin warriors quickly picked themselves up, not even stopping to help the ones that were hurt. Soon, the small clearing the three impromptu fighters had created was empty aside from them. The only evidence left behind was the mess of snow and ice left behind.</p><p>Protea pursed her lips. She was supposed to be helping monsters, not getting into scraps with them. She had one chance to make a good first impression, and it had been completely squandered in only a few minutes.</p><p>Admittedly, this wasn’t a good start to her time in Uliazin. Surely there was some sort of silver lining to be found here, but try as she might, Protea simply couldn’t find anything positive to say about the experience. Well, there was that one moment when-</p><p>She shook her head as if to push away the heat rising to her cheeks. So there was one positive here, but it took a backseat to the diplomatic issues she had made in under a minute.</p><p>She looked over at Zephyrine and Willow, the former fretting over a gash that had been driven into Willow’s arm.</p><p>“What a mess.” The lady-in-waiting muttered as she ripped a piece of her skirt off to wrap the wound.</p><p>What a mess, indeed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter Four: A New Friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">Faint motes of dust floated through the stale air of the ballroom. Despite the roar and crackle of the fireplace and the beaming rays of light through the towering windows, there was still an aura of chilliness there. Whether it was magic or coincidence, no one could tell, and no one seemed to really care. Even though the cold air required Protea to wear her thickest clothing she still found herself at ease in the room. Perhaps it had something to do with that strange stele at the front of the complex - on a side note, the monument had somehow disappeared overnight - but she simply couldn't bring herself to be uncomfortable here, Willow's creepy tales notwithstanding. But at the moment this wasn't what was at the forefront of her mind. Rather it was the "minor" fiasco that Protea's little group had gotten into with the goblins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">Willow and Zephyrine chatted faintly in the background, going on about the catacombs that supposedly lay underneath the castle. She could tell from Willow's furrowed eyebrows and her tight frown that her attempt to disconcert Protea's lady-in-waiting had fallen flat on its face. The porcelain-skinned woman simply sat there with a tiny smile on her lips, as if Willow had just reminded her of a memory from her childhood. It amazed her how the other two had seemingly forgotten all about their encounter with the goblins yesterday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">With a frustrated sigh, Protea stood from her seat and strode to one of the many balconies. The other two hardly seemed to notice her leaving. She opened one of the glass-paned doors, taking in her first breath of outside air for the day, reveling in that moment of minty freshness. There was no snow that day, so Protea had been free to enjoy a little excursion outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">As she stood overlooking the grand castle, a tiny itch began in the back of her head. She was only vaguely aware of it, in the same way that one was only aware of a bug bite because it always itched, so she refused to do anything at first. The spring equinox was only two days away at the tail end of the month of Sagios - she made a note to herself to study Vostea's calendar once more - so the tingle could have easily been a strange reaction to the cold. But as time went on, the itch became stronger and stronger, until it was practically impossible to ignore. It wasn't really harmful, but Gods be damned if didn't make one hell of a nuisance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">For some reason, Protea felt compelled to peer at the front end of the courtyard that the balcony overlooked, and she almost stopped in her tracks. At the entrance of the castle, practically on her doorstep was a single lanky, olive-green goblin. It didn't take much for her to draw Zephyrine and Willow's attention to the goblin. They were at the front in an instant, Zephyrine and Willow poised and ready for another fight or some sort of ambush. None of them could have prepared for what happened next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Stop!" the goblin cried in a scraggly voice as Zephyine lifted her wand. She gaped at him like a fish with her wide, violet eyes. Willow and Protea were nowhere near as surprised as her - in a world with multiple sentient species, it would only make sense that a few people would be able to speak more than language. Although, Willow seemed more excited about the fact that she had yet another unfortunate soul to subject to uncomfortable probing and scary stories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"I have deal to make. You listen, yeah?" Well, no one said that he would be fluent in both languages. Protea motioned for Zephyrine to lower her wand, and she complied reluctantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">The goblin pulled a meager sack from underneath his cloak, saying, "This all I have. Tribe exile me, say I too soft." The bag held only a single scraggy hare and a few branches-worth of dried berries</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"I remember you," Protea said. The goblin seemed to perk up at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Why are you here?" Zephyrine butted in. Her face still held that perpetual serene smile to it, but now there was an air of intimidation to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">The goblin clammed up, quivering in his tiny boots. "How do you say, offer services? I can help!" He launched into a long rambling list of things he could do for the tiny groups of women, seemingly forgetting about their presence entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"I say we leave him out here," Zephyrine whispered to Protea harshly. "This could be an ambush."</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"No! No ambush!" He offered the meager sack of food to her once more, opening his mouth to plead for help, but Protea simply raised a hand to stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"There's no need. Stay as long as you need to." She told him. Willow rejoiced at that, quickly taking hold of the goblin's arm and dragging him up the steps as she fired question after question at him. The goblin sent her a vaguely confused and terrified look as he disappeared behind the thick wooden doors, but Protea could only offer a sympathetic grimace in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">It was hard to stop Willow once she got into a mood like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"My lady," Zephyrine called, "Please excuse my language, but why in nine hells would you let him stay with us?" Protea didn't miss the disgusting emphasis she put on the word "him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"We have no reason not to, and it's not as if it's going to hurt us to keep him around."</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"But what if it's a trick? He could be trying to get our guards down."</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"What do you know about goblins, Zephyrine?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Pardon?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"What do you know about goblins?" the porcelain-skinned woman paused at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"I know that they're incredibly conniving and crafty. I've heard many stories about the feats of trickery they were capable of."</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Correction, Zephyrine. They're incredibly utilitarian. Goblins don't do anything if they don't believe it'll help them somehow. Didn't you notice the lack of red on his face?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"I did. But what does that have to do with anything?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"The lack of markings means that the tribe has stripped him of his place there. I doubt they would want to come to confront us either, after the thrashing we gave them yesterday."</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"But I still don't understand. Why?" Zephyrine tilted her head like a confused puppy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Because a lone goblin is a dead goblin. Again, there's no inherent harm to be had from letting him stay with us." Protea left it at that and walked past her into the tall gaping doorway, leaving Zephyrine to ponder Protea's words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">It was particularly odd - Protea had never shown such an intimate knowledge of monsters before. She normally considered that monster hunting work, which was far beneath a noble lady of her name. Generally, in her classes at the Royal Academy, she would simply skin over the monster section of the textbooks. Although it wasn't too strange. Protea did have strange moments like that every so often, ones where she spent all of her time reading and studying random and niche topics until she came away with information only a handful of people would have. Perhaps this was simply another phase of hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">But still, Zephyrine couldn't help but wonder; what if this was something else?</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">The faint sounds of metal clinking against metal floated through the door for the fourth time today as Protea passed by the room the goblin had taken up residence in. Vekz - as he called himself - had been holed up in the room for practically days now, with little to no explanation has to what he'd been doing in there. There would be sounds like opera coming through the doors at first, then it would suddenly stop, replaced by the telltale din of metal being moved around and hammered into place. Sometimes there was a sound like ripping, but that too would disappear quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">Protea didn't really mind, in all honesty. The walls weren't so thin that noise could be heard throughout the castle, but it was still a huge departure from the usual silence that permeated the grounds. She couldn't help but wonder what he was doing there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"My lady?" Zephyrine knocked on the door as she stepped into the massive room. "I hate to pull you away from your... research, but there's a rather pressing matter to address."</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Did something happen?" Protea frowned as she looked up from her journal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Nothing too important, my lady, but- Well, our Charm is missing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Pardon?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"You know, the Charm. The audio receiver."</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Oh, that." It was an acronym for Alchemical Audio Reciever Machine - basically a radio. It was a big clunky thing, only a tiny bit smaller than a wardrobe, and it was far too cumbersome to be used for anything practical aside from serving as a makeshift shelf. For whatever reason, Zephyrine had been insistent upon bringing it with them, even though any possible signal it could receive was miles away from here. "I'm sure it's around here somewhere. You did bring it into the foyer, right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Yes, and then I moved it to the ballroom. It's not there anymore."</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"What do you mean?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"I mean it's gone, my lady. As in, it disappeared." Protea pursed her lips. There was no way something that big could disappear overnight, but then again the stele that was at the front of the castle grounds was still missing. She made a note to go look for that later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Where have you looked? There are only so many places it could be, and I doubt anyone even stole it." There wasn't anything valuable in the Charm itself, apart from the few enchanted crystals that powered it, but taking those crystals wouldn't necessitate taking the entire thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Well I checked the hallway outside of the ballroom, the kitchen, and the front courtyard, but I haven't found even a hint of dust missing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Let me see." Protea pushed her chair back as she pulled her cardigan around her shoulders. Looking for the Charm was sure to be a better investment of her time. She was plumb out of ideas for the library and trying any further would be like trying to get blood from a stone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">The two women set off for the ballroom shortly thereafter. Despite the haunting emptiness of the castle, there was no reason to be afraid of it anymore. Willow's story had lost all credibility by now; there were no shifting windows, no dead-end hallways, and no pointless stairways, much to Willow's chagrin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">The ballroom was completely normal. Of course, it wasn't nearly as grand as the one in the capital or the one in Frostenden, but it served its purpose well enough, and Protea didn't see any reason to complain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">As she came up to the wall that the Charm had been situated against, she realized that Zephyrine's words rang true. It was as if the burdensome device had vanished into thin air. There was only the faintest of outlines against the wall and floor left behind, and there wasn't anything like dirty footprints or the like to show where it had gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"My Lady?" Protea looked back at Zephyrine, who held an expectant look on her face. "Aren't you going to-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Yes, yes, of course. I almost forgot." Protea waved her hand, bringing up streams of silver light once more. She wiggled her fingers and the silver lights spread out over the small space they stood in. This spell was meant to essentially reveal the traces of magic left behind in a specific area over time; Zephyrine was prohibited from using seeing how it was a type of spirit magic and true to her namesake, an air mage could only use illusion magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">As Protea's magic settled onto the ground like falling flour, three shapes became apparent. The first was Zephyrine's figure on the right side of the Charm, fiddling with the large buttons on the device. To her left was Willow's figure, her hand resting under her chin in a thoughtful pose. Right behind the two was another smaller, almost imperceptible figure: one with a wedge-shaped head and long floppy ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"The goblin took the Charm?" Zephyrine asked with incredulity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"I doubt it. The only thing Vekz did was stare at it when you were talking about the Charm earlier. And judging by how faint the trace is, I'm assuming he doesn't have much magic to spare." She almost couldn't even see him there, which made her doubt that he could even pick up a pebble with a levitation spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Well, I don't know who else couldn't have taken it. None of us have bothered it and he only moved into the castle two days ago." She sounded uncertain as she spoke; even Zephyrine had to admit that the thought was preposterous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">There wasn't much else they could do here aside from speculating about possible culprits. This along with the disappearance of the stele that had been sitting at the front of the had simply been a coincidence, so there wasn't any particular reason to be worried at the moment. Protea sighed and placed her hands on her hips, idly looking across the room. As her icy blue eyes scanned the massive ballroom, she came to a sudden stop before one of the doorways. There was an object that hadn't been there before - it was rough, made from crude planks, rusty nails, and a bit of old twine, but the shape it formed was unmistakable. It was a wooden dolly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"I think I know where it went," Protea said quietly. "Wait here." She left her lady-in-waiting to stand with a look of befuddlement as she headed towards Vekz's room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">Protea didn't know how she didn't see it before. When Vekz had come over to inspect the Charm, he held a look of complete awe and wonder in his eyes. He couldn't stop asking questions about it - where they got it from, what it did, how it worked - nothing was off-limits for the curious little goblin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">Protea knocked on the door, the sounds of cherry music coming to an abrupt hale. The door opened almost immediately, revealing Vekz's lanky figure, covered in splotches of dust and oil. He straightened as he realized who he was opening door to, quickly wiping off a spot of black liquid on his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," Protea said with a tinge of amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"No, no! Just working. I made something good. Come see!" He beckoned her into the room with a clawed hand, and Protea had to pick up her dress and step over a stray mechanical part laying the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">His bed had been pushed into the side of the bedroom to make space for the Charm, whose hull now lay empty apart from a few gears and pipes. The bulk of its mechanics had been set to the side in a pile and there was a stack of papers next to with hastily scribbled designs and notes on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">In the middle of the floor was another device, just a tad bigger than a suitcase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Watch!" Vekz began to fiddle around with the cobbled-together machine. A waltzing tune floated forth from the horn that had been seemingly stuck onto the apparatus. Steam lifted off the other parts of it as the gems it was connected to lit up, giving off beams of magical essence. It only did this for a minute or two before the music petered out and disappeared though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">Vekz smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "I haven't worked out all the flaws, but-!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"You made this yourself?" Protea inquired, picking up the now reformed Charm to inspect it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">Vekz nodded uncertainly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Impressive. Good work, Vekz." He didn't seem to know how to react at first; maybe he had been expecting a different response. But soon his mouth spread into a wide grin as he heaped thanks upon thanks for the young woman's praise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Thanks to you! Tribe says my work is useless, but only because they don't see truth."</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Vekz, how far do you think the Empire's outmost territories are from here?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">He scratched his head thoughtfully for a moment, before replying, "Maybe two thousand miles?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"And how far can a teleportation spell take you from your original location"</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"Depends. If strong mage, then the farthest you go is fifty miles."</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ql-font-serif">"That's what I thought." Protea set the new Charm back on the floor. "I have an important request for you if you feeling up for the task."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter Five: Meanwhile...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the bustling streets of Arcas, the crowds moved like bees through the cobblestone pathways. Streamers and banners were being hung up, and the vendors were hastily setting up stands on the sidewalks. In a little under a month’s time, there would be a feast; the Festival of Three Moons, when all three of Vostea’s moons would be full. It was the last time it would happen this year, which was warranted more music, more dancing, and more food. But despite all the excitement in the air, there were a few that sat on the edge of their seats.</p><p>“You’re doing it again, Briar,” the prince scolded as he grabbed the hand that had been absentmindedly scratching away at her bandages. She blinked up at him with wide soft blue eyes, before a pink tint came up to her fair freckled cheeks,</p><p>“Sorry,” she mumbled as forced her hand to her side. Ever since the end of the war a month ago, Prince Galian had been hovering over her like a nervous hummingbird. She couldn’t leave the academy dorms without a cadre of guards to shadow her every move. She was insistent that she didn’t need them; she had been through a good number of battles without much help, and it was only the most recent one that led her to be injured in such a manner.</p><p>Suddenly the door was almost thrown from its hinges, revealing a disheveled young man with pastel blue locks falling carelessly over his forehead. He held several scrolls and books in his arms, his satchel overflowing with more loose paper and notes.</p><p>“Sorry, I’m late! There was a hold up at the Royal Archives - did I miss anything?” Winston Everard pushed his almost-too-big glasses up his face, almost tripping over his violet robes as he struggled to keep from dropping anything on the floor.</p><p>“Well, judging by the fact that the Charm’s not even on, I think you’re good.” Another boy walked into the room, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Wulfsige ran a tan hand through his fiery red hair with his other hand readjusting the belt that held his sword. Even when he had been ordered to take the day off (by the Crown Prince, no less), he still had some form of armor on.</p><p>“Don’t be so harsh, Wulfsige. Not everyone is as astute an observer as you; I’m sure the Orthrus Incident can attest to that.” The next young man to enter the room was tall and lean, with a lackadaisical smile hanging from his lips. Gemini’s green eyes crinkled up with amusement as Wulfsige sent him a harsh glare.</p><p>“It’s not my fault that the cultists were hiding him until the last moment.”</p><p>“No, but it is your fault that you didn’t bother checking to see if they were completely unarmed.”</p><p>“Please don’t start arguing, I’ve already got a bad headache.” Briar was no stranger to the little spats Gemini and Wulfsige tended to get into, having the misfortune to be dragged in a few of them.</p><p>“I’m not arguing. I’m just speaking my mind.” Gemini shrugged her off, wavy blond locks falling across his copper forehead.</p><p>“And banshees don’t scream.” Wulfsige rolled his eyes. The Crown Prince held up a hand, palms facing outward with two fingers crossed and the other three closed in a half fist. This was the sign of the Imperial family only used when they had grown tired of hearing people speak. Smartly the two quarreling barely-adults shut up and separated, but they still sent each other the occasional glare from across the room.</p><p>A few minutes later, another young man walked in the room, the last guest of the day, this one bearing icy blue eyes and curly raven hair, pulled back into a tight bun. He gave a short bow in the prince’s direction and then saluted Briar before taking a seat by the low set table in the middle of the room.</p><p>“You do know we aren’t in at the ball, right? You can afford to let your hair down for a few minutes. Or are you Lord Johannes all the time?” Gemini said to the newcomer.</p><p>“He’s the Crown Prince. It’s against etiquette to not acknowledge his presence when I walked in.” His shoulders were set in a tense position, and his back was ramrod straight. Johannes didn’t even allow himself to sit all the way back in his chair; there was simply no room to relax in the presence of royalty.</p><p>Winston stood from his seat and quickly strode to the Charm, flicking on a few buttons and messing with the dials before a clear voice drifted through the horn.</p><p>"<em>The date is Firedawn, 5th of Regnausa, Year 433. The following court session is an arraignment for the defendant, Protea Fynderne of Frostenden.</em>” Immediately, Briar’s heartbeat began to quicken. She was compelled to begin scratching at her bandages again for the little bit of comfort the gesture provided, but the prince laid his hand over hers.</p><p>“<em>The indictment reads as follows: ’The Royal Jury charges, Count One, Attempt to Assassinate the Blessed Maiden of Humanity. On the fourth day of the Emperor’s Tourney, which took place on the 22nd of Wolvsigas, Year 432, the defendant knowingly used a lethal spell in an attempt to kill the Blessed Maiden of Humanity, as defined in the 16 Imperial Code 4536(a).</em>" A scowl came to Wulfsige’s lips and his amber eyes burned with simmering fury as he listened to the audio. On his chest, a scar peeked out from the collar of his shirt - a reminder of the impulsive sacrifice he had nearly made for Briar that day.</p><p>"<em>Count Two, Attempt to Undermine the Established Line of Succession. On the 8th of Aluvi, Year 433, the defendant conspired with Prince Lorcan Kilfold to assist him in a plan to take the title of Crown Prince for himself.</em>" Up until now, the prince had been talking with Briar, whispering little jokes in her ear to wipe the anxious look from her face, but now the tables had been turned. Galian gripped her hand tightly and his shoulders drew up tightly, but his face still held the same tiny smile he’d had for the past few minutes.</p><p>"<em>Count Three, Violation of Imperial Law by Accessing Prohibited Information. On the 8th Atunia year 433, the defendant was apprehended with several classified documents in her possession, some of which contained classified information pertaining to the Empire of Draentis and its military, as defined in 2 Imperial Code 1253(a).</em>" Gemini’s chest seemed to swell with pride as he leaned back in his seat. There was a satisfied grin on his face as he closed his eyes, appearing to relish the speaker’s words and the memory that came with them.</p><p>"<em>Count Four, Attempt to Blackmail via Threat of Physical Harm. On the 18th of Usinar, Year 433, the defendant reportedly threatened an imperial scholar to obtain access to private research, as defined in 12 Imperial Code 3452(b).</em>" Winston shifted uncomfortably in his seat upon hearing this. He pulled at his collar in an attempt to relieve some tension but it didn’t seem to do much good.</p><p>"<em>Count Five, Harassment of a Public Figure through Physical and Emotional Means. On the dates of the 8th of Esanur 430, 2nd of Wolvsigas Year 431, 23r of Regnausa Year 432, the defendant was reported harassing Lord Johannes of Frostenden, using manipulation and threats to disturb the victim’s peace.</em>" Johannes didn’t seem to have any particular reaction to the charge; he just stared at the Charm with the stonily impassive look on his face. But if one paid attention they could see his fingers curl up in his lap ever so slightly, and his lips quirked in the faintest of manners. It was hard to tell what any of this meant, however.</p><p>"<em>Mr. Herridge,</em>" the speaker said. ”<em>have you discussed all the charges set forth with your client?</em>" There was a collective deep breath, whether involuntary or voluntary. Briar was almost on the edge of her seat, gripping her royal blue skirt with peachy fingers that had gone pale at the knuckles.</p><p>"<em>I have.</em>" Another voice came through the machine’s horn, this one more quiet and crackly. "<em>My client has decided to plead</em> nolo contendere to all charges." Even the machine seemed to be stunned at this statement, with the audio suddenly breaking up. Winston jumped up and hurried over to the Charm, fiddling with the dials and buttons again to coax the sound back out.</p><p>"<em>Nolo contendere</em>? What does that mean?” Briar looked up at the prince with doe-like eyes, her eyebrows furrowed deeply above them.</p><p>“It means she’s accepting punishment for the charges. It seems all my hard work has come to fruition.” Gemini sat back in his seat with a shrug. For a moment it seemed he wanted to pat himself on the back, but Wulfsige was quick to burst the triumphant bubble he had created.</p><p>“Oh, please, you hardly did anything. Pleading no contest just means she doesn’t admit to being guilty.”</p><p>“I don’t understand. If she’s still being punished, then what’s the big deal?” Briar asked.</p><p>Winston already had an explanation at the ready. “In the Empire, a <em>nolo contendere </em>plea means that we can’t bring any more charges against her that relate to the case. Furthermore, if she decides to ask for a release, that she’ll essentially become an outlaw. If that happens, legally no one can punish her, but she won’t be protected by the law either.”</p><p>“Well, what did you expect? She is a Fynderne, after all. They aren’t known for conceding defeat easily. No offense, Johannes.” Gemini quickly added. Johannes remained as icy as ever.</p><p>“But the Emperor just said she can’t contact anyone on the mainland.” Briar pointed out.</p><p>“There are exceptions to the rule,” Winston continued. “She’ll have a warden with her to make sure she can serve out her sentence. She’ll be able to appeal through the jailor if she wants.”</p><p>“Like that’s ever gonna happen. After the shitstorm she cooked up, there’s no way an appeal’s gonna work.” Briar sent a scolding glance at Wulfsige, which he responded to with a flippant shrug. “You know I’m right.”</p><p>“And even if she does try to appeal,” Galian jumped in to reassure the Maiden of Light. “I’ll see to it that she never sets foot anywhere the Empire of Draentis ever again.” He finished with a dazzling smile.</p><p>“So she’s gone for good?” There was a hopeful tone to Briar’s question.</p><p>“Positive. Protea will never harm you again.” Briar finally relaxed in her seat, her wavy strawberry locks flopping back over the headrest. Finally, the nightmare was over; no more having her books slapped from her hands, no more being followed by her lackeys all day, and most of all, no more Protea.</p><p>“So... what now?” Wulfsige interrupted the moment.</p><p>“Now? Well, the Festival of Three Moons is only a month away.” Winston chimed.</p><p>“He’s right. You’ll be expected to make an appearance as the Vessel of Aluvi Herself. Hopefully, the bandages will be off by then.” Galian said the last part under his breath.</p><p>“I thought the Festival was being set up by the Followers of Usyn. I mean the moons are Usyn’s children.”</p><p>“True,” Winston said, “but Aluvi is the Queen of All Gods. She has to make an appearance everywhere because she gave every other god their duties. Since you’re the Maiden of Light, and the gods can’t appear for every event, you have to stand in for Aluvi.”</p><p>“So I have to go to more events like this?”</p><p>“I’m afraid so,” Galian said with a sympathetic look.</p><p>Gemini waved a hand dismissively. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Little Rose. With a face like that, you’ll have nothing to worry about.” He winked at her despite the sideways glare the prince leveled at him.</p><p>A tint rose to her cheeks as he spoke and she turned to the window to hide it. As she looked over the bustling streets of Arcas there was a small prickle at the back of her neck. She doubted that it was a warning from the goddess - she could only consult her when she was on holy land - but her intuition didn’t seem to think it was over.</p><p>For some reason, Briar had the fleeting feeling that she hadn’t seen the last of Protea.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Protea's Diary - II</h2></a>
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    <p>
  <em>Mountdawn, 34th of Aluvia, Year 422</em>
</p><p>It finally happened; I met Prince Galian today!</p><p>Before now, I had only ever seen him in paintings and the magical images sent to me from the palace, but now I finally knew who he was.</p><p>He didn’t look like I expected him to, but that’s not a bad thing. At least I don’t think so. Obviously, since he’s the Crown Prince, the paintings given to me all exaggerated his good features and downplayed the bad ones. Compared to him, the paintings were all hard to look at now.</p><p>We took a walk in the Royal Gardens together. I’d never been there before, so Zephyrine and I had to walk behind him and his guards so we wouldn’t get lost. It was so awkward at first. We just stare at the flowers, the sky, and the ground, and if we k=locked eyes by accident we would turn away from each other quickly. I was so sure that the meeting was going to end in disaster - I’ve heard so many horror stories from my cousins about things like this.</p><p>Then finally one of us decided to break the silence. Galian (that’s what he told me to call him from now on) asked me about my schooling. Not a very good start, but it was better than nothing. Then I mentioned this new play my tutor gave me - Widows and Agents - and his eyes lit up like Lantern Flowers!</p><p>I had no idea that Galian had such a love for theater! We practically spent hours talking after that; I learned that his favorite playwright is Venture Palmio. A decent man I guess. The Lament of Mala the Younger was a fine play, but I suppose comedies just aren’t for me. But I digress. Anyway, we had a great time today. I almost didn’t want to leave.</p><p>But Father seemed troubled for some reason, and so did Mother. When we ate dinner, they kept whispering to each other and looking at me from across the table. I tried to ask them why they were upset, but neither of them gave me a clear answer. Father claimed it was just about business and Mother said they were planning another trip to the Palace.</p><p>Johannes hardly noticed that were arguing - thank the Nine. He was too busy bragging about the new sword-fighting tutor he got. I’m sure he’ll be gone by the week though.</p><p>I’m not gonna let any of this get in my way though. Galian and I are friends now, and I have a duty to my family. I don’t quite know what everyone means by that last part yet, but I won’t let them down regardless!</p><p>
  <em>Sincerely,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Lady Protea Fynderne of Frostenden</em>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. On Hiatus</h2></a>
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    <p>Hey guys, I'm putting the story on pause for the next month or so. Recently I've found it hard to continue writing anything, and I think I need a break to figure out what I'll do next. I hope you guys can understand the delay in updates, and thank you for reading Queen of Monsters.</p><p> </p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>Morgan Powers</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just something I've wanted to try my hand at for a long time.</p><p>Let me know what you think in the comments!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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